🎃 Sgt. Salty and the Haunted Hanger — Chapter 1: “Jars Yogan Takes Flight” ✈️👻
🎃 Sgt. Salty and the Haunted Hanger — Chapter 1: “Jars Yogan Takes Flight” ✈️👻
The night air had that crisp, cheeky bite only late October could bring. Halloween in Saltyville wasn’t just a date on the calendar — oh no — it was an event, a spectacle, a full-blown production of costumes, cauldrons, and questionable life choices. And at the centre of it all, of course, was none other than Sgt. Salty.
“Tonight,” he declared dramatically to the mirror, “Jars Yogan takes flight.”
He stood in his dimly lit bedroom, surrounded by scattered costume bits — aviator sunglasses, a navy-blue flight jacket with golden wings embroidered across the chest, and the pièce de résistance: a stitched-on name patch that read in bold, unapologetic letters — JARS YOGAN.
The wink he gave himself in the mirror could’ve powered the fog machine for the entire party.
“Winky,” Salty called out, “how’s my landing gear looking?”
From the hallway came the muffled snort of WhizzAir Winky, always quick with a comeback.
“Depends, Cap’n… you’re either cleared for takeoff or about to be arrested at immigration.”
Salty adjusted his hat with the seriousness of a man preparing for a mission. This was the Halloween Hangar Party at the old airfield — the kind of bash where the line between tricks and treats got dangerously blurry.
Ye Olde Large Lad had already sent a text in the group chat:
“Someone’s spiked the punch. Again. Bring reinforcements. And crisps.”
Sarah and Susan had responded with a barrage of pumpkin emojis and a single, dangerously vague message:
“We’re dressing appropriately 😈.”
The Govna simply wrote,
“Arriving in disguise. Don’t ask.”
Funji Squallshy was, unsurprisingly, carving mushrooms into jack-o-lanterns. He called them shroomkins. No one had the heart to stop him.
Salty grabbed his flight jacket and gave one last look at himself in the mirror.
“Damn,” he muttered with a grin, “they’re not ready for this turbulence.”
Outside, the night was alive — jack-o-lanterns flickered like cheeky little devils, skeletons dangled from lampposts, and the smell of roasted marshmallows danced with the faint trace of mischief.
The misfits had decided to meet at the end of the airstrip — where the old hangar sat, creaking and waiting. Rumour had it, long before the party became the event of the year, the hangar had a haunted past. Planes went missing. Lights flickered at 3:33 a.m. Someone swore they saw a pilot with glowing red eyes and a martini in hand.
But hey… what’s Halloween without a good scare?
Winky arrived first, naturally, dressed as a skeleton pilot.
“Figured I’d match the vibe,” he said, spinning a plastic propeller.
Large Lad appeared next — as a sexy Frankenstein, green paint, ripped trousers and all. His idea of subtlety was about as delicate as a jackhammer in a library.
Sarah and Susan?
Oh, they didn’t just enter. They made an entrance.
Two smoky figures in flight attendant outfits — short skirts, thigh-high stockings, and just enough cheek to make the fog machine blush. They strutted down the runway like they owned the airline.
Salty nearly lost altitude.
“Cabin crew,” he said, pretending to adjust imaginary controls, “this captain is… very impressed.”
Sarah smirked, leaning in, her red lipstick glinting under the orange glow of the lanterns.
“Fasten your seatbelt, Captain. It’s going to be a bumpy flight.”
Winky choked on his punch.
Inside the hangar, it was a Halloween fever dream. Cobwebs stretched across old plane wings, pumpkin lights dangled from the rafters, and a fog machine puffed like an old engine ready to take off. A DJ dressed as a vampire spun tracks from a booth made out of an airplane fuselage.
Large Lad had already disappeared into the crowd, likely near the snack table. Winky was on a mission to locate the mysterious spiked punch. Sarah and Susan were attracting more attention than the candy table — which, to be fair, was saying something.
Salty scanned the room like a man who smelled both opportunity… and trouble.
Then — there it was. A shadow moved on the second floor of the hangar’s old control room. No one was supposed to be up there. Yet something… or someone… was watching.
“Alright,” Salty muttered, “either it’s the ghost pilot or someone’s got the best costume of the night.”
He tugged his cap down, nodded to Sarah and Susan — who immediately followed (they were too curious for their own good) — and headed toward the creaky metal stairs.
Halfway up the steps, the music dimmed. A cold breeze cut through the warm haze of the party.
Susan whispered, “Um… was that the fog machine or something else?”
Sarah grinned. “If it’s a ghost, he better buy me a drink first.”
When they reached the top, the door to the control room creaked open by itself. Inside, the air smelled faintly of old jet fuel and trouble. Dust swirled like whispers. A single lantern flickered in the corner… illuminating a vintage pilot’s cap resting on the control panel.
And right behind it — a figure in a pilot’s uniform. Face hidden. Eyes glowing.
“Boo,” it rasped.
Sarah jumped. Susan swore. Salty nearly spilled his drink.
But the captain in him rose to the occasion.
“Excuse me,” Salty said, dead serious, “you’re not on the flight manifest.”
The figure tilted its head slowly. Then, with a gust of icy air, it disappeared — leaving behind a chilling laugh and the faint scent of whiskey.
Back down at the party, Winky looked up at the balcony and saw the three of them staring down in shock.
“What the hell happened up there?” he called.
Salty adjusted his cap again, smirk returning like a boomerang.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, striding down the steps, “we’ve got ourselves a ghost pilot. And he’s clearly jealous of my outfit.”
The crowd burst into laughter. But somewhere above, in the darkness, the whisper of wings fluttered.
Tonight wasn’t just a party. It was the beginning of something spookier, naughtier, and far more fun than any of them expected.
Salty raised his cup to the crew.
“To Halloween. To chaos. And to whoever that was up there — nice touch with the glowing eyes.”
The bass dropped again. The hangar roared back to life. But up in the shadows, a lantern flickered once more.
✈️ Chapter 2… Incoming. 👻
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